


Just another day for Scarecrow and Hatter

by gaymien66



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jeromes Alive AU, M/M, Sharing a Bed, This was a oneshot that went wrong, Trans Jonathan Crane, trans character written by a trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-09-01 17:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaymien66/pseuds/gaymien66
Summary: While Jervis and Jonathan wait for their plans to unfold and for Jeremiah to make his first move, somebody had to do the cooking.An AU where Jerome didnt really die - He was just gassed by Jonathan to look dead while they waited for Jeremiah to properly snap.////////This was a one shot. It is no longer about cooking-- It's a hattercrow based fic on if Jerome didn't die while exploring Jonathan and Jervis' life in no man's land. It also has some Jeromeswald gently sprinkled in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i just decided to write this ramble while i was depressed and a friend wanted jonathan to be happy

It’s been around four days, since Jerome’s apparent suicide. He wasn’t dead, obviously, thirds the charm, and this only makes second. Who knows, that ginger maniac could be a cat for all he knows, which would make seven. There's a long way until Jerome finally kicks the bucket, but for now, he was publically dead, and Gotham had fallen to a near-standstill in serious or insane crime, even Jerome's followers have been hushed by the ordeal, mourning their leader.

The reality of it was a simple trick that Jonathan managed to pull with a nice drug he composed (Thankfully not in a toilet this time…) which lowered Jerome's vitals enough to make him seem dead for the meantime - He wasn't entirely certain if he was going to be able to wake him up, but we’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it. For now? Jonathan was cooped up with someone he could vaguely call a friend, which would take a lot more to admit it outloud, Jervis Tetch. The man with a nick to hypnotise people and rhymes infecting his speech at every possible opportunity.

Turns out, despite being cooped up in in Arkham Asylum for a prolonged period of time, he’s extremely picky. With his food, with his surroundings, where he lives - Especially where he lives. Of course they weren't going to live in some high class mansion, whether Jervis hypnotised them to give it over willingly or not. Jonathan wanted to make sure they were both completely safe and under the radar. The only good thing that came from Arkham was meeting Jervis and Jerome, but truly, he would not like to return to that place. So obviously, the first place Jonathan thought of was somewhere underground. The first few days of Jerome’s ‘death’, a hypnotised bunch had been digging out a nice bunker for them with the bare minimum. A main room, a single bedroom, a toilet, and a kitchen. 

Those few days Jonathan had given in and let Jervis have his high class meals while he stocked up on food to last as long as it needed - Until Jeremiah publically snaps, as per Jerome’s request.

But no more. It was difficult enough for Jerome to be around the hypnotised workers while the bunker was in the making. People were never something he was fond of, even before The Scarecrow. They all end up so rude or harmful or...They just don’t understand. Jerome definitely wasn't rational, but he was a friend, so was Jervis. Regular citizens? Stressful.

“Mr. Crane, if it’s all the same, it’s still more than possible for me to bring in a professional cook, and it would give you a break from the hooks…” 

Jonathan's blue eyes watched the Hatter formulate the words through a slurred touch of class, almost like a bratty child, and he sighed through the mask in a shake of his head, stepping past him with his shoulder brushing past him. “You know why I beg to differ, Mr. Tetch. I’m more than capable of cooking, this is only a temporary housing…”

He sighed. At least that part was true - He’s been cooking his own meals since his mother died, give or take. He was more than confident that he could accommodate for Tetch’s needs, if he would just wait and actually try it.

“Well I hate it, it does not hit the right look. Everything’s just so… Uck.” Jervis voiced his complaints het again, and the dull droning of his rhymes almost became background noise with a slow shake of his head.

For the next hour, Jervis brooded in the main room, glaring off at everything he didn't find up to shape for his style and needs, occasionally shouting back at the man dressed up as a Scarecrow about something that especially annoyed him, which, in this case, was practically everything. Jonathan ignored it completely, glaring at his cooking materials while he got some spaghetti ready for the pair of them. Jervis seemed to slowly quiet down to the smell, finally submitting to his fate of not having a high class cook make some food for him, Jonathan’s would have to do. Scarecrow expects that, either way, it’s way better than anything Jervis could ever cook up. He gets other people to cook for him-- Actually, he gets other people to do everything for him. He just can't see it.

Jonathan stepped in with a slow step, gloved hands gripping onto two plates of pasta and bolognese, topped with a bit of extra shredded cheese. A simple meal, but he at least hopes that Jervis will be too busy eating to complain. He closed his eyes, settling to sit himself down at the couch, passing the plate over to Jervis, who eagerly took it through a nervous smile past his facial hair, eyes flickering down to the food.

Well.

So far he doesn't seem disappointed.

Jonathan tapped his finger down on the side of his plate for a long moment, sighing through the mask to shove his fingers under the clip and slowly pull it off.

“Oh, Jonathan, this is-” Jervis swallowed the food down while Crane placed the mask down to his side, and he squinted with a watch of the plate, messing around with the pasta on his fork. Brown hair darkly curled around his face- Wild and untamed from being under the mask so long. A light amount of dirt was patted on his cheeks and darkening the area around his eyes, only...Showing off the beautiful blue eyes that were once filled with so much fear.

He caught Jervis staring after the butched sentence, blinking through a slow brush of his hair backwards, a slight amount of nervous tensing up into his features. “What?...”

“N-Nothing you’re good, I-I mean, it’s good-” Jervis fumbled over his words for a moment, clearing his throat to glance away and try to focus on his food, confusing Jonathan greatly. He’s never seen Jervis so...oddly nervous. It was uncharacteristic to his playful pride. His expression slowly softened to watch the light pinkness that oddly suited Tetch’s skin, and a small smile formed to look away, and they both finished their food in silence. He caught Jervis staring a few more times.

It didn't feel bad. It was the first time Jervis had seen him without his mask on, he was expecting to be...judged, but this.. It was comfortable, he felt comfortable around him.

The rest of the day went by as normal, well, besides Jervis making slightly less complaints than usual, and Jonathan let Jervis talk his ear off about whatever sparked his interest, occasionally making input, but Jervis really was the one who spoke between them

“Mr. Crane? I wouldn’t want to be a drain, but--” Jonathan rose his head quietly from the book he found his nose buried in - The mask still not placed back over his head, and he caught the odd adoring look forming in Tetch’s gaze once more. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “...There's only one bed.” Tetch finished, nervously clearing his throat with a look away.

“Oh. Don’t worry, I don't sleep much.” Jonathan sighed to explain out with a small scoff, his eyes rolling to flip the page of his book, scanning over the next line.

“What?! No! I refuse! You need your beauty sleep!” Jervis gasped with his posture straightening with an offended flicker spreading across his features, making Jonathan's chest bubble in an odd way, and he scoffed through a quiet smile at the thought. 

“Ridiculous, how am I supposed to look this dreadful with so called beauty sleep?” He then excused to The Hatter, only causing Jervis to look more and more offended. The argument went on, and somehow, somehow…

Well. Jonathan found himself in the same bed as Jervis. The bedroom was the one room in the bunker which he attempted to look presentable with a vaguely comfortable bed for Jervis’ comfort, he just never planned to be in it himself. How in the world did he find himself in this situation? How did Jervis actually win an argument between them, was the real question. Turns out Jervis sleeps like a baby, but Jonathan… Not so much. He couldn't sleep. He was quite restless, which he usually was, but now it was different. The odd feeling of someone else sleeping beside him made him almost...afraid of the notion. The intimacy behind it. Too close, too homely, too comfortable.

Which made him uncomfortable. He watched Jervis sleep. He looked calm, the soft rose tint forming on his cheeks once more. He snored, but only to a level that was almost...admirable. It made him feel sick. His stomach, his chest, hurt to the sight of how peaceful the Hatter was. Maybe he was jealous? He… Hasn’t been able to rest that well in a long time. Sleeping is more of a drag than anything, when his fear catch up to him in his nightmares, eating him alive. Images of his father, his mother-- Losing Jervis, Jerome… He just wished he never bothered to form any relationship with anyone. Life is better off alone, that way you have no one to lose.

Jonathan sighed, slowly slipping his eyes closed with a slight curl up to at least try to sleep in the warmth of the other, thoughts flickering back in to fill his soul with dread and anxiety, and he stiffened a silent sob, shoving a hand up to cover his face through the forming tears, breathing struggling against the harsh, overwhelming pressure against his chest. It was too much, why, why was- why was he-...

Jonathan’s tears stopped at the feeling of a hand on his side, tensing up with an anxious breath at the touch, slowly looking to the hand, and the body it was connected to. Jervis tugged at him, mumbling quietly in his sleep with a small and needy yank of Jonathan, pressing him against his chest with his arms slowly wrapping unconsciously around Jonathan’s trembling frame.

“Jerv-...” He stopped himself, looking up to his peacefully resting face. The pressure eased up into an odd twist, the shakes running through his body slowly calming with his body tingling to the touch, and his cheeks flushed up warmly with a small laugh under his breath. Right. He’s just… He’s with Jervis. He’s safe, no one is going to hurt him, or Jervis. It’s just...a normal evening, sharing a bed with your...best friend. 

His head lulled, and he caught himself falling asleep in Jervis’ arms.

That night, he dreamt for the first time in too long.


	2. A (Second) Day for Scarecrow and Hatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH I didnt really expect to write more either, but here we go. thank u to anyone who gave me random fluff hcs. it was appreciated

“...M...Mr. Crane?” 

The voice dulled out giving a grunt from Jonathan, yanking at the supposed pillow in front of him, breathing rising slowly. His mop of messy, bed head ridden hair was pushed into something oddly warm, and his eyes finally fluttered open, confusion washing through him like a bolt of lightning. The fabric of Jervis’ Alice-in-Wonderland-themed pajamas was pushed against his face, the smell already familiar and much like the man himself, despite only being worn for a few days. It took a moment of freezing in place for him to jerk back the best he could, heaving an anxious breath with a failure to yank himself fully away - An arm awkwardly under his side, and his legs tangled up against the taller man

And, Jervis’ face was bright red. 

His hands were awkwardly hovering with his eyes trained on Jonathan, confused out of his mind, well, both of them were. His heart fluttered.

Oh. Oh, what?... He felt odd. Was it bad? Good? New? New was terrifying. Horrible. Scary. Too many possibilities, and being all tangled up into Jervis felt like an odd nightmare. It made him sick to the stomach to the thought of previous times he's ‘Shared a bed’ with others, morbid thoughts that didn't lay over his mind until he was this close to the Hatter. Intimate and vulnerable-- Much too vulnerable and weak, and, and…

He took a deep breath, expression remaining flat besides a flicker of his eyes to the side.

“...Ah. It seems we have reached a stalemate.” Jonathan grunted out quietly, twitching to slowly and carefully wiggle his arm out from under him, Jervis snapping out of it to actually shift himself to help them out of the tangled mess they formed. Not just with each other, but the blanket they shared, too. A bit of teamwork, and they both sat up, free from each other with an oddly comfortable silence, although Jervis seemed to be trying his damned hardest to avoid looking at him. The silence lasted a few minutes, but since this is Jervis we’re talking about, it is quickly interrupted. That man can't keep his mouth shut.

“You made a mess of the covers, I say. How may I lay on this? And my clothes? Been through the troughs!” Jervis’ mildly-annoying voice complained to Scarecrow with an itchy look forming, lips pressed into a pout through furrowed brows and a long look over Jonathan’s… Well, he did sleep in his usual outfit, being his Scarecrow get-up. He didn’t exactly expect most of what's happened these last fews days (He’s found Jervis is more chaotic than expected, despite his obsessive rhymes), and Jonathan fell into a stirred silence to ponder over the thought. The covers, and Jervis, were both quite...matted in dirt. 

“...Hm. Well. We could turn the covers inside out, and I can give your clothes a hand wash. We don’t have a machine to do as such, dreadful, I know…” His voice droned on with a subtle change in his tone. Soft and gentle; Whether or not it was because his voice isn't being filtered through a gas mask wasn't entirely clear.

Jervis stared through an offended look, smiling as if he couldn't understand how Jonathan could ever say such a thing, and he scoffed, folding his arms. “Fine, you take the reins, Mr. Crane.” Jervis huffed out, standing up sharply, dramatically making a brushing motion towards the door. “Now out! I must prepare for the day!”

...What day? Sitting around watching the news for Jeremiah?

The day went on. Jonathan made a full english breakfast for Jervis and himself (Mostly Jervis - He’s very capable of living on a can of beans) - Which Jervis seemed to enjoy enough that he’s stopped complaining about how they could have a 5 star chef in their bunker to cook for them. The pile of plates was slowly stacking up, which Jonathan flawlessly ignored. They had plenty of clean plates left, there's no point in cleaning up just yet. However, there is something else he’s been trying his damned hardest to ignore, something he actually promised to do.

Cleaning Jervis’ PJs.

He rolled up the sleeves of his Scarecrow attire, peeling his gloves off with a run of the sink, filling it up with a quick wash of his hands. They had limited water, obviously, they were running off of a water tank that should hopefully last until they can collect Jerome - So it is only to be used in emergencies, and this is an emergency.

...And now how to wash the clothes. He struggled enough with a washing machine back at his home, and now he needed to do it ...by hand before Jervis has another tantrum. Soap? It needed soap. While the water topped itself up, he grabbed the bottle of washing up liquid he collected for the plates, and squeezed it with full force. The thick, green liquid poured and poured, turning the water into a deep green, and bubbles quickly formed to fill the entire sink bowl. And it just kept going. Placing the near empty bottle of washing up liquid, he prepared the clothes while the water kept running, humming to himself, and…

Oh dear. 

The bubbles were overly overflowing, and he struggled to find the tap through the storm of bubbles, quickly switching it off while the bubbles dripped down onto the ground, across the counter, and onto his own clothes. It was a mess, chaotic and confusing. Very clean, obviously, and the apple scent of the washing up liquid was invading him. He pulled his arms back through a deep breath, bubbles covering his arms and parts of his sleeves to work out how to handle this.

..Well, the bubbles would all dissolve eventually. Just continue as normal.

Jonathan took the PJs back into his hands, moving to dunk it through the bubbles, carving a path through into the jungle to dunk the clothes under the water, twitching to massage and squeeze through the fabric to get rid of dirt he could barely see through the mess. He kept at this, squeezing and pushing and praying that it was working.

“Mr. Crane? I was just wondering if- Oh my God!” Jervis cried with a devastated look, hovering in the doorway of the small kitchen to stare at the puddles of bubbles Jonathan had made a mess of, and Scarecrow looked over to jervis was a helplessly confused look, elbow deep in the main source of the bubbles.

“What..?” 

“How have you made such a mess! I only see this in jest-” He exclaimed with a sudden move forwards, rolling his sleeves up to pull Jonathan suddenly away from the sink, making his stomach dip with a flinch from the touch. The PJs he were holding dripped onto the ground, soaking wet. Jervis glared quickly at him, grabbing the clothes, leaving a confused Scarecrow. “How much soap did you use? If you didn't know how to do it, you should have called for me-” He complained with a slight throw of his arms, placing the wet PJs onto the side were bubbles had not infested.

Jonathan was shocked into silence, wet hands hovering to stare and watch Jervis - Watching him grab for a mop (Something he didn't even think about…), and mop the bubbles, hitting them away till the kitchen was near-sparkling, leaving a warm bowl of bubbled water, and before Jonathan could offer to take over, Jervis grabbed for the clothes and started properly cleaning them through with a sponge, brows furrowed under his top hat with a small mumble.

“--J-Jer- I mean, Mr. Tetch…” He started with an anxious stutter, twitching to bite into his thumb with a glance off, feeling quite...useless. Was he useless? He couldn't handle such a normal and easy task. Did Jervis think so negatively of him? Of course he did. The man was obsessed with things being clean, top class, and everything about him was-

...Not.

He was filthy, unorganised, never really changed clothes, terrible at cleaning-... This entire bunker was bound to be a disaster.

And there he goes. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, blue eyes twitching to look away with a hard bite of his thumb, drawing blood through a slow shudder. His chest stung, tears dripping down his cheeks with a weakness he hasn't felt in front of someone for a long time. He shakily took a step back, glancing quickly towards the door in a forming hiccup.

“Its nothing, Jonathan. Just a simple mistake, fixed in haste-” He stopped, glancing back at Jonathan, who looked ready to leave the room through the brewing anxiety - More so the fact he was in front of Jervis.

“Oh dear- Come here.” He instantly hushed, wiping his hands down onto his shirt to quickly step towards Jonathan, who looked away from him with a clench of his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to block the man out completely. He felt a soft touch into his shoulders, making him flinch back with his heart jumping in terror. The next thing he felt was warm arms wrapped around his shuddering form, a hand slowly brushing through his messy hair, a sweet hummed hush.

“Calm down, sweet rabbit. This just isn't your habit, I have it handled.” He told Jonathan sweetly, and Jonathan's heart fell still in a slow lean towards him, wet hands gripping onto Jervis’ clothes. His eyes slowly opened, glancing up to the Hatter who held a sweet smile filed with an odd amount of adoration, and his cheeks fluttered with a soft pink, despite the wet streaks. A slow submissive nod formed, and he leaned in closer to press his face into his collar.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought Jervis hypnotised him into calming down.

“Let us sit down and relax, this is enough havoc for the day.” Jervis cooed out softly, smiling at the small nod he got from Jonathan.


	3. Another...week for Scarecrow and Hatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AhhHHh sorry this got so long!! I got carried away :CC

Over a week they have been in the bunker, nothing truly eventful happened the last few days, just the usual petty arguments which Jervis started from being under the stress of being cooped up in such an enclosed space. They watched the news most of the time, the other times Jonathan entertained himself with producing various chemicals for his collection, and for whatever use they could be in the future. Science kept him entertained and content; A distraction.

They had just watched an Alice in Wonderland film which had aired, which to Jervis’ insistence, they watched with a couple of bowls of warm beans. Alice in Wonderland was never entirely interesting to him, in fact, he barely knew of its existence before he met Jervis, who, as he found, was completely obsessed with it. He found it unclear whether the obsession came from his sister Alice or not, but he’s only heard her mentioned a few times now. Jonathan prefered science, not...fiction, either way. It was mostly all his father gave him to read, of course. He wanted Jonathan to take on after his work, which in a way, he didn't fail to do. Jervis was close to Jonathan, eyes sparkling with a smile of excitement after finishing something he actually enjoyed, with Jonathan no less.

Jonathan’s eyes flickered up to Jervis for a short moment, huffing with a rub of his exposed face, dirty like usual, but it wasn't as if they actually had a bath or a shower here. He didn’t expect to be here so long, but at least he was starting to enjoy Jervis’ company. He sighed, breathing jagged and shallow. He felt Jervis’ arm snake quietly around him in a squeeze, leaning in quietly with only a tingle of discomfort. For the most part...it was… nice, warm, and less lonely than how he usually felt.

Perhaps this idea of ‘friends’ wasn't as bad as he initially expected.

“Why do you breath like that? Almost like a strangled cat?” Jervis’ voice sung out with a lulling hum, though he flinched to the question. Jonathan averted his eyes through a clear of his throat, a hand quietly rubbing up the messy fabric of his Scaresuit, feeling across the bumpy texture and the numerous seams of his stitch work.

“It… I…” Jonathan paused with his chest tightening more than it already felt, the aching pain getting to him in a lean away from him. Jervis’ arm pulled away, like he actually got the hint for once. Imagine that, actually understanding body language? Jervis? Really? The tense air seemed to be getting to both of them; He couldn’t see Jervis’ face, but he was very good at imagining the confusion spread across it.

“It’s nothing. The suit is stuffy and I’ve always had issues with my chest.” Jonathan lied, tugging on a loose piece of brown fabric, feeling small and vulnerable with a quiet tense up.

“Oh- Oh goodness! You need to take that suit off before you faint, Mr. Crane-” His voice was filled with a thick amount of...worry, that the fear in his voice made him glance up to Jervis with a small twitch, the sound of a tear of his seams forming with his gaze settled onto Jervis’ panicked expression. Jervis had sat up completely, leg bouncing with a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, which he didn’t notice until he saw it.

“I would...Rather not.” He then hushed him, closing his eyes with a squeeze. “I feel much more dreadful in this outfit, I already removed my mask. This is enough.”

“No, no, no!” Jervis gasped, jerking to his feet, hand on hip to lean down in front of Jonathan, brows furrowed, and successfully making him feel more small. Jervis wasn't getting it. Jervis wasn't understanding what he was going through - And this, he must think he looked quite weak and helpless right now. Little Jonathan and his ‘breathing problems’, how...petty.

Jonathan didn’t hear much of what Jervis said next, more of the dull ringing in his eyes. He rolled his eyes when he rushed to leave the room for whatever reason, and he moped through a bite of his thumb.

Jervis rushed into the room, holding up the themed-Pajamas which Jonathan distinctly remembers making a mess of, and Jonathan slowly cocked his head to the side, dull eyes staring over the outfit held out to him. “What is this, Mr. Tetch?” He sighed out softly. “Your nightwear. Why are you holding it up.”  
  
“These are for you now, and I expect no row,” He huffed out with another jerk of the clothes forwards, ticking him off inch by inch.

“I don’t need to change. I told you this.” Jonathan insisted.

“No! You need to! As a child, my dear sister Alice always struggled with her breathing, do you know how stressful it was to make sure she could actually breath-? Change clothes! Now!” He could have sworn Jervis stomped down onto the ground in retaliation, and Jonathan huffed with a fold of his arms, taking advantage of his right to remain silent. Doesn’t matter. Jervis does not control him…

“You’ve left me no choice!” Jervis suddenly snapped, making Jonathan raise his head with a deep frown forming. “What are you-”

The warm slope of beans spread across the chest of his Scarecrow outfit, making Jonathan freeze with a stare down at it. He felt the confused lul of rage boil up in his chest, and he forced himself to his feet with his wrist raised, a small sizzle of gas forming to glare at Jervis through a dark locks, a low warning, before he growled through bared teeth to start jerking the brown fabric off. “Fine! Just shut up, you infuriate me!” He hissed out with tears forcing their way into his vision, peeling back the dirty clothes quickly.

“Wait, Mr. Crane, I’m sor-” The voice was buzzed through his red mind, dunking the potato sack top half of his outfit onto the ground, panting quickly in a deep quiver. His heart dropped, hand shoving to his binder covered chest, forced flat, not that there was much there to begin with. His skin was pale, having not seen the sun for around four years, and he was thin, looking sickly and boney. Disgusting, freak-like, barely even a person-- He hated how he looked. That's why he hid under an outfit which represented fear itself, and here he was...shirtless.

Jonathan clenched his jaw with a tremble, hands trembling in the bubbling dysphoria and panic to being so vulnerable in front of Jervis, and a low growl formed to glare at him, the wet feel of tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Get. Out.” He snapped at him, and Jervis, who looked to be in a mix of shock and guilt, slowly nodded with a bite of his lip, bowing his head to rush from the room. Jonathan slumped, flopping back into the couch in a flinch, nervous twitches running through him to grab the stupid pajamas that Jervis insisted he wore, huffing and wheezing through a deep and panicked breath, the reality of it all catching up to him. Jervis saw him like this. A trembling mess, in what kept his chest flat and tightened his breathing, which he must admit, is a pain through his gas mask. Jonathan let out a whimper, rocking in his spot with another flinch to start yanking his binder off, the pained touches following through from the heavy black and blue bruises painting his skin like a morbid painting, outlining his already quite prominent ribs.

He can't remember the last time he took it off.

He let through a gasp of air, choking quietly on a sob to curl up into the shirt, his tears wettening the fabric through in wheezes and whimpers. He could hear things. Things that he knew were not real at this point, most of the time he ignored them, but they get so loud in the moments he breaks down. Moments like this, where he's weak, they...prey on him. Reminding him that he’s just weak, little Jonathan, and no Scarecrow getup is going to change that; all it does is hide him from the world like a coward.

Jonathan hated his body. He hated everything about it. Not even Jerome knew about how he-...was. Sure, he’s poked and prodded at how boney he was before, even finding joy in it, but never...those parts. He hated them. The only person who understood was his father; The only person who tried to help him was his father. Jervis’ doesn't want to help, he wants to leave this bunker and just...just… live with a bunch of hypnotised slaves. At least his father cared. His father loved him, he tried to cure his fear, and in a way he did, and he...Provided the right hormones. He misses him. He misses that. But he’s dead, isn't he? Was it all his fault?  
  
He choked on a harsh breath, stiffening up to yank the shirt on to cover up his bruised chest, wobbling to his feet with the dreaded sorrow slipping back into pent up anger. He paced across the room, grabbing his scythe smoothly with a yank of the handle, grunting through a stab of it into the coffee table, jerking to violently kick into it.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He snapped out, his voice raised and poised in annoyance.

This goes on for around half an hour, and by the time Jervis dared to step back into the main room, timidly glancing inside with his hand on the door frame. He visually looked to cringe at the mess; Broken plates on the ground, a completely messed up coffee table, the TV cracked (thankfully not broken), and stuffing from the couch was ...pretty much everywhere. Jonathan barely spared him a glance, dressed in the stupid PJs Jervis insisted he wore, and he shifted in his spot. He was sitting on the ground in front of his chemistry set up, carefully dripping a chemical into another for a soft sizzle. Just fear toxin. He needed something to make before he broke anything else…

“--Mr. Crane?” Jervis’ voice called out with a touch of strain, clicking the door close to carefully walk towards him, dodging over any sharp parts onto the ground. “I… I apologise, I failed to sympathise with you. I shouldn't have snapped or cracked. My behaviour was ...unacceptable.”

Jonathan let out a small scoff, shaking his head with a small amount of yellow gas escaping a conical flask, and he slowly looked over to him with a cock of his head. “Mr. Tetch, I never thought I would see the day where you would apologise for something you did. Where did your stuck up pride go? No more bratty remarks?” Jonathan hummed out, the salt dragging across his tone with his body twisting to glance up Jervis. Jervis seemed very good at staring, he didn't want to comment on it, it seems, but he was eyeing up the PJs he was wearing. He probably thinks he looks atrocious, what else would he think? The man’s standards are much too high.

“I… Was in the wrong, I wasn't singing the right song. I… I… I tried to make you some food, for being so rude.” Jervis looked away through a shaken look, frowning. It didn't seem fake. He looked guilty and ashamed- But how long would this act last? Jonathan wondered on the thought for a moment, before slowly sighing to place his chemistry equipment down to creep towards him at a slow pace, arms loosely at his sides. Now that he was standing, it was...obvious that Jervis’ clothes were too large for his thin body, even the sleeves went over his hands. Jervis took a moment to take him in, before slowly smiling.

Almost in pity. “Just...Try to sit in the pit we call a couch..” He muttered with a motion to the cut up remains of their couch, and he politely gave a bow, before scuttering back off towards the kitchen.

Jonathan didn't respond past doing as he was asked, sitting down onto the most cut up part of the couch, for Jervis’ sake, and he glared down at the broken coffee table with an itching desire to only break it more. After a short moment, Jervis found his way back into the room, holding a tray with two bowls and two cups on. He sat on the couch, carefully moving to pass Jonathan a bowl of soup he had apparently made. It didn't look bad, but honestly, it just looked like the tinned once they have.

“You made this?” Jonathan finally spoke up, moving to carefully sniff at it, before moving to pull something out from under the couch - Just a little thing to test for poison. He dipped it into the soup for a moment, before quietly taking a spoonful. He blinked. Not the best, but…

“I-... Well, kind of. I used the tins, and added some..sausage pieces and a couple of pieces of vegetables, just to spice things up.” Jervis tried to explain, looking a bit nervous for Jonathan's response. He placed the tray on his lap, next holding up a cup of tea. “I also made you some tea, for you and me. We didn't have a tea pot, but I made do. I hope it's not too sweet or heat..ed.”

Jonathan let out a shallow sigh, letting the bowl into his lap to take the cup from him next, taking a sip since Jervis’ didn't seem like he was going to stop holding it until he tried. 

“...”  
  
He stared down at it for a moment, clicking his tongue with an easy swallow. It was ...good. Very good, this tea was one of the best he’s had. Not too sweet, perfectly brewed, some..extra flavour he couldn't put his finger on. “Absolutely dreadful.” He let slip, and disappointment slipped into Jervis’ features, before quickly brightening. Must have realised that was a compliment… “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Tetch. I assumed you wanted my opinion.” He stated out, a small smile forming with the warm comfort of the tea in his stomach, and the soup in his lap.

He finished most of it up alongside Jervis, and… Was tempted to ask for more tea, but he refrained himself completely. They placed the clutter onto the already messy ground, the news humming in the background with Jonathan's stomach dropping. He wanted to feel comfortable around Jervis, he really did, but it was ...difficult to say the least.

Jervis cleared his throat.

“Mr. Crane…” Jervis started, twiddling his thumbs quietly with a small glance to him. “Jonathan, is it alright if I call you Jonathan? I truly am sorry for what happened. I understand if you can't forgive me, but-”

“I forgive you.” Jonathan caught himself announcing, and he twitched with a move to cover his mouth. His expression scrunched up, quietly glancing up to him through dark eyes of beautiful blue. “I-I… Hm..”

Jervis’ smile formed, honest and pure, forcing a small leap in Jonathan's chest, and Jervis moved in closer, only to pause in a moment of hesitation. “Can I… Hug you?” He then gently asked. “I wouldn’t wish to bug you..” Jonathan paused for a short moment at the request, feeling the odd tightening of his chest once again, even with the change of clothes, and his cheeks heated up quietly to match the colour on the Hatter’s cheeks. A nod formed.

Barely a moment later, he felt Jervis’ arms wrap fully around him, engulfing his smaller frame into a deep hug. He slowly slumped against him, a small laugh slipping from his lips in a beat of hesitation, before wrapping his arms around Jervis’ chest in return. He let his eyes slowly slip closed, head against his chest through a slow scoot into him, letting himself relax despite any..negativity weighing on his mind. Jervis’ was warm, comforting, and almost sweet. Even if Jonathan hadn’t forgiven him, he’s certain that this hug would have won him over. It was so… sweet. Different, embracing? Is this what friendship felt like..? Real friendship.

“Thank you. For being with me.” Jonathan slowly hushed out.

_ “An evacuation warning has been given out city wide as Jeremiah Valeska explodes the city’s clock tower, and threatens the lives of hundreds and thousands of Gothamites if they are not evacuated in meer hours!” _

“...Ah. There’s Jerome's brother. Is it time?”


	4. Another day....ft jerome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome... he is alive. congratulations have a chapter without jonathan crying

“Are you certain that he hasn't died as Gotham cried?” 

Jervis’ voice called out, walking alongside Jonathan. They had freshened up; Jervis had attempted to clean himself off in the sink with the last remaining water, shouting and cursing at Jonathan and just about everything in the meantime, and Jonathan had gotten dressed back up in his stitched up outfit; So much for a break from those clothes, fate had other ideas in mind. Jervis, donning his tophat, stood with a tall posture while they creeped in towards the graveyard Jerome was buried in; Looking much taller than Jonathan. It wasn't hard, considering he was taller than him naturally, but Jonathan’s hunched over posture sure didn't help.

“It’s a possibility, oh how dreadful…” Jonathan rolled his eyes under the mask, and a flustered smile over nervous confusion flickered onto Jervis’ features; Oddly charming. Jervis was one of the stupidest, smartest people he’s ever met; He was very good at rambling about things like Alice in Wonderland, or bizarre new ways to hypnotise people, including an interconnected...hat system. Classically Jervis, and entirely possible. If Jonathan cared enough, he’d make it for him, but he’s certain that Jervis isn't quite smart enough to make it himself. He’s all talk, nothing else. Even his abilities were just that; talk. So, the confusion, the soft rose tint to his cheeks, reminded him that this man was still an absolute idiot. Quite a charming idiot, but still an idiot.

“A possibility- Oh nevermind! You’re such a pessimist, I must insist. This is you, Jonathan Crane, The Scarecrow, there’s no other like your kind; Hard to find, brilliant mind, I’m fully confident in your abilities to...bring Jerome back from the dead, any other thoughts are just in your head.” Jervis almost sung the words out with the confident smile forming smugly back on his features, tipping his hat gently with the occasional glance towards Jonathan.

“...”

Jonathan didn't respond, but an awkward smile formed under his mask, which he is madly glad that Jervis can’t see. Having his mask back on was much more calming, but the odd twist of his gut was not so much. He blamed it on the soup Jervis had prepared for him.

They came to the grave - Jerome Valeska, donned with the title ‘Seconds the charm!’ - Which would more accurately be thirds the charm; He’s not quite dead yet. The man was practically bloody immortal - And another detail was the fact that Jerome wasn’t quite in his grave, instead slumped into the previously mentioned gravestone. Jonathan dropped his shovel with a sigh, at least satisfied that that part of the job was no longer necessary, so he squatted down in front of Jerome. Jervis stood to his side to watch him in silence.

Jerome looked very dead. Pale skin which wasn't helped by the scar of his entire face; His breathing was less than traceable. The gas he originally used to bring him to this state slowed his bodily functions down completely; Even the process of cells being used up was completely limited, there was just the amount of activity to keep his brain alive through it all, even if it’s more of a near-vegetive state. It was almost comparable to something out of Romeo and Juliet, which he was sure Jervis would compare it to, if given the time.

The maniac ginger was still grinning like an idiot. He didn’t expect any less; Honestly, if he wasn't smiling, he’d be worried the body switched out.

Scarecrow stood himself back up with a vague motion for Jervis to give him room, and a click followed by the sizzle of gas formed; A dark red coloured cloud engulfed Jerome completely, and with the gas clearing up, as did Jerome's skin, slowly but surely. He relaxed with that, the underlying anxiety that his friend was dead, despite his care in keeping him alive, slowly being brushed under the table.

“Wake up already. It’s been far too long; You’ll starve yourself being asleep for such extremities.”

“Indeed, indeed, Mr. Crane. The clock struck against the book; It’s time to rise from the dead for all to behead!” Jervis followed up after Jonathan, of course, with his ridiculous rhymes.

...And with Jervis’ charmingly annoying voice, Jerome flinched in his spot with a soft croak, a crack of his joints forming while he shoved to wipe at his eyes, slowly opening them through a deep green; A colour that stays, even through his...many deaths. Jonathan let out a thicker sigh of relief, which sounded more like a huff through the filter of his gas mask.

“...Mrnhh… What time is it?” Jerome croaked out to the pair of them, glancing around through a dizzy disoriented look; An effect which was to be expected after being in a gas-induced coma for such a long period of time. Jerome let out a soft yawn, running along the scars of his face in an odd way to try to help himself wake up.

“When the clock hit eight-”

Jonathan cleared his throat; actually making the compulsive rhymer shut up. “Around 8pm. Your brother recently announced plans to blow up the entirety of Gotham city, but no reason to fret; We have a bunker ready for us to wait out. Drink.” A bottle of water was pushed straight into Jerome's grip, making Jerome blink through a dreamy smile, messing with it to take a much needed gulp to clear out his dehydrated tone.

“Mrh, fuck, he’s so smart…” Jerome wearily muttered through a chug of water, glancing up at Jonathan in a dreamy smile. Definitely disoriented from the gas, but at least he wasn't murderously excited.

“Yes, yes, everything has gone as planned; Now, I’d drink faster if I were you. I dread to think what would happen if we were caught in the chaos of it all.” Jonathan held a hand out to Jervis, which Jerome had to pause for a moment, taking it with a squeeze. Jonathan yanked him up to his feet, watching him tumble into him. He sighed deeply, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Ya can lead the way, right?” Jerome wheezed through a tired grin, slipping in closer with a sleepy sway, eyes fluttering closed in threat of falling right back asleep.

“Of course. Let’s go, Mr. Tetch.” He sighed softly to Jervis, and through dodging tree roots and making their way through the smoking forest - Smoked up from Jeremiah’s near by maze going up in flames, presumably with Jim Gordon inside, something Jonathan and Jervis were certain they didn't need to complain about.

They dragged Jerome down into the underground bunker, the absolute mess that it was, to sit him down onto the couch. Jervis rushed into the kitchen to prepare some sort of food for the starving man, and Jonathan prayed that nothing burnt without his supervision. Sure, Jervis successfully made soup, but honestly he wouldnt trust that man doing chemistry in a preschooler’s classroom. Either in worry for him exploding the children somehow, or hurting himself. Most likely the latter.

Jonathan watched Jerome intently, glancing him up and down with his brows furrowed, this only slightly visible through his mask. Jerome looked healthy, a little out of it, but he was waking up with the water he clutched in his grip. His skin having a nice rosy tint to it now, everything went according to plan. Of course, he wanted to do proper checks. Take his heart rate, temperature, blood testing, look at his brain activity - But there wasn't enough time, so he’ll have to deal with that later, or not at all, which was much more likely.

“Crow-Crow, you’re, erh… Staring” Jerome snorted out, making Jonathan inch back for a short moment. Jerome’s endless grin only grew wider, almost like the Chersire cat from the book Jervis praises so hard. “D’aw, don’t look so shy, I know I’m pretty, ya can say it.” A low laugh tore from his rugged throat, leaning back in the messed up chair to grin off at Jonathan with a tired look, but the chaos was certaining lighting up. “I mean, I think ya cute. Like, scary cute, the best sorta cute. Y’know, I loved horror movies as a kid, and-”

“Are you trying to make a point of being annoying?” Jonathan tutted through a muffled laugh in his mask, shaking his head slowly in a soft click of his tongue. He heard Jerome quickly burst into a manic sort of laughter, hunching over himself through trembles and snorts. He stopped quite abruptly, suddenly shoving to hug Jonathan’s side, grinning sleepily to him, petting slowly against the hood of his suit.

“C'mere ya lanky boy-” 

Jonathan froze up for a tense second, glancing to the ginger clown. A slow sigh huffed through his mask, and he slumped his way into Jerome, passively accepting the hug he was dragged into...and the demeaning petting. The petting wasn't as nice as the hug, he had to say, but he rested into the warmth with a reluctant stare to him. Jerome looked perfectly content attached to his side, which he still blamed on the drugs. 

They were friends. Which is why they were hugging like this; Jerome considers him a friend? He sure hopes so. Even if he treats him as nothing more than a business partner through this, Jerome teases him quite playfully, seems to care in his own weird way, and here he is, hugging him much like Jervis would. It didn't feel the same as embraces with the Hatter, though, Jonathan moved to return it and wrap his arms slowly around his chest through a hummed sigh.

“Mrph- Crowy, you smell worse than usual. Has Hattie been annoying ya? I can kill him, would that help?” Jerome snorted with a slight pull back to grin at Jonathan. The comment made him pause for a moment, staring dully down at Jerome.

“I don't know what you mean. Jervis is fine.”

“Jervis? You’re callin’ him Jervis now? Wooow, what happened while I was gone? No, no, don't tell me, I’ll guess!” Jerome swayed against him with a hum of thought, forcing Jonathan to sigh with a half hearted pat of his back; He didn’t bother entertaining him with a response, and quite frankly, he had no idea what he was talking about. It’s normal to call your friends by your first name, and-... He didn’t exactly realise he started doing it.

“Mr. Valeska, I prepared you a sandwich!” Jervis announced with a childish pride in his voice, strutting himself into the room with a small plate holding a decent sandwich atop; Something a parent would pack for a child for school. Jonathan spared a glance back, looking up and down the well-dressed Hatter to take in his...face scrunching up in an odd way he couldn't really understand nor describe. Almost a look of terror, anger, but also...not. Something else entirely.

“Oh, goodie! Gimmi, gimmi, I’m starving!” Jerome cackled with another tight squeeze of Jonathan, pulling back to turn around on the couch and face him fully, reaching his arms out dramatically.

“Mr. Crane, why were you… hugging Mr. Valeska?” His flustered voice spoke out in a quick and annoyed tone, stepping forwards with a place of the sandwich on the nearest surface, and definitely not Jerome's hand. “I- I-... It looked quite touchy and intimate! I protest without rest-”

Jonathan’s heart lumped up in an odd manner to stare off at Jervis through the mask in a confused squint, slowly dragging himself to his feet to tug at Jervis’ hand, making Jervis nervously glance down at the touch through the cute flush that liked to form onto his cheeks, highlighting the very faint freckles he could see this close up. Jerome had fumbled across the room, grabbing for his sandwich to stuff his face into his sandwich, just in time to catch:

Jonathan tugged Jervis into a deep hug, his face rested silently against his collarbone with his hands gripping into the back of his jacket, and it didn't take a second for the protective squeeze of Jervis’ arms around him to pull him in and drown him into a comfort he couldn't describe and a warmth that fluttered around his stomach, chest and cheeks. 

“OHhHH! When did this happen? While I was ‘Dead’? Congratulations! I was wondering when ya would finally do it!” Jerome pumped an arm, speaking with his mouth filled with the sandwich which was...almost already destroyed.

“Do...What? Hug?” Jonathan sighed out quietly, pulling back from the hug with an annoyed look from the comments from Jerome. WHat did he mean? Was he hinting at something?... It probably meant nothing, this is Jerome afterall. He spared a glance to Jervis, who was oddly silent in the moment. His cheeks were flushed fully, his face doing the odd thing where it makes a face he can't really describe. Weird… “He’s my friend. I believe hugging is one of those ‘friend’ activities-- I can hug you if you’d really like, Jerome-”

An audible gasp came from his side, and Jervis faced him with a hand dramatically over his own chest. “A contest? I protest! I lay claim to the Crane, Mr. Valeska!” he bitter tone came through his rhymes with a snap, hugging Jonathan’s in a flustered protest to… to… What was he protesting..? Was he arguing over hugging him? Was it really that important? It made him feel odd, and a nervous chuckle slipped through. It was kind of funny seeing Jervis like this - All flustered and afraid at the idea of ‘losing’ him to Jerome.

“Nothings wrong with some friendly competition, Jervis. Or, you could share.”

“Ohhh really? So we could shaaaaare~?” Jerome's voice sung out in tease, hopping over to lean into Jonathan with a teasing grin, looking hungrily up and down the Scarecrow to lean in and slowly….lick up the cheek of his mask, making Jonthan flinch with a glare. Just Jerome things. Jonathan rolled his eyes to wrap an arm around Jerome’s hip in the hopes of both shutting him up...and annoying the idiot further.

“I’m capable of having more than one friend, I-”

“No, no, no, not ever a show! My way or no stay. I will leave if deceived like this!" Jervis suddenly snapped with a flinch to glare with a look of absolute death in Jerome's direction, pulling back from Jonathan to look away from him with a deep pout of his lips. He was so… He’s never seen Jervis this...annoyed. Having a tantrum this bad? Sure, he was a spoilt brat, but why other something like this?

“Mr. Tetch, please, Gotham is going back to the stone age. We can only dread what the streets are like out there; Leaving would only do you terror and misery. So why don’t you just share? It’s a much more logical way to go about things…” Jonathan tried to assure him, reaching out to place his hand gently onto his shoulder, staring up into his near-black eyes that he felt he could get lost in. Jervis stared back down to him with a nervous fluster, lips twitching to find a response.

Jerome's cackling in the background served for some good music. He seemed ecstatic by all of this, very, very excited. “Better out there than to share my beloved Crow! I’ll have a row at the thought of this man and his ….activities.”

“Oh, Jervis, you absolute idiot…” He grunted under his breath to shove and pull him back close with a yank, snuggling his face into his chest to try and calm the dramatic idiot down. Acting like it’s the end of the world just because he was close with Jerome. “Hush yourself before you become the fool, Jervis. I care for you dearly, and I would fear what would happen to you out there. Alone. I will force you to stay if I have to.” His voice trailed on to quietly smile under his mask. Jervis… He was afraid of losing him. It felt endearing for Jervis to panic at the thought, seeing the cogs underneath the man… Ah.

“...All the same, Mr. Crane.” Jervis whispered out with a hand quietly slipping to feel under the rim of Jonathan’s mask to almost start tugging it off, and Jonathan let out a quiet chuckle to pull it off without a thought of self consciousness forming. He smiled authentically up to Jervis, getting lost in his eyes from the hand snaking its way onto his cheek to hold him in place.

“Er- Should I get a room, or is this like, a three way thing?”

Both of their smiles dropped into a look of annoyed disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my writing- Maybe you'll like my art (YES there is hattercrow), or you could message me if you wanted to!! My tumblr is https://ae-arts.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm. short

“Er- Should I get a room, or is this like, a three way thing?”

Jerome's question was proposed with a silly amount of seriousness through his cocky grin, finishing up the sandwich Hatter had prepared for him. Jonathan, and Tetch, both gave him the dullest look possible from him interrupting the moment between them, whatever it was. To Jonathan, it felt like a dream. Not a nightmare like he was more than used to; But a dream. A happy memory, a good moment, even if he felt almost trapped in Jervis' gaze for the moment. "I can never tell if you're deadly serious; Nor do I wish to understand what you mean by Three-Way- Couldn't you tell we were making a dreadful memory?" Jonathan mumbled the words out with a hint of timidness forming through it; Of course with the fear puns, but the actual meaning behind his own words confused him. Making memories. How...Sappy.

"I think what my friend here means is: No, absolutely not. The most beautiful crow is to be treasured, not shared around and measured." Jervis scoffed with a wave of his hand, offended, but no longer sick with green envy. He seems to have won this round; And he was happy to have won.

"D'aw, I'm just messin' with ya, HatterCrow. You crazy kids have fun- And use a condom!" Jerome's laugher erupted like a wildfire, snorting and chuckling in his spot- And Jonathan set his gaze into Jervis, who's breathing was starting to quickly rise. What was wrong with him...? Was he afraid? Of... What exactly? He heard him choke on his breathing, and he stepped in to silently place his hand over Jervis' chest - Over his heart - To feel for his heartbeat....

"I-I must go- Need some time away from the Crow!" Jervis suddenly yelped out, cheeks of red, to jump back away from the touch and rush into the bedroom with a slam of the door, leaving the unmasked Scarecrow...confused. Hm.

"Did he forget to buy condoms, or...?" Jerome snorted with the proposed question, and it hit him like a landslide. Jerome was insinuating that he and Jervis were to-

Jonathan gagged through a thick glare in Jerome's direction. "No. Be quiet before I tear your vocal cords out myself." Jonathan hissed under his breath in a short tremble, only to stomp off towards the kitchen, with a vague;

"Ooo! My brother's in the news!" From the ginger idiot.

For the next day, Jonathan just thought. Long hours alone, staring into his own hands to think and ponder over everything that's happened. He used to keep a diary, before he became the Scarecrow, then all he kept was a ‘nightmare’ journal, which was still lost at Arkham Asylum. It sounded like a good idea, right now, if he had noted down what had happened this last week or so. He and Jervis were just supposed to stay low and wait to go and collect Jerome; But what happened before that? Something serious. Something intimate. Something…

...Terrifying. Jerome's comment, as lewd as it was, made Jonathan realise something deeply personal inside of him, inside of his thought-to-be cold heart. He didn't talk to Jervis, nor Jerome, and any attempts to do as such were answered with a stern glare through his mask. They got the picture, mostly, and gave him space in front of his chemical setup, which he wasn't even messing with.

What he’s realised was… He was in love with Jervis Tetch. The idiot in a bowtie and tophat - Facial hair that was much too patchy to look good on anyone except him - Curly, shoulder length hair, and eyes you could get lost in, placed in a trace ...something. Whatever it was about Jervis, his idiocy, charming looks, the way he held him, it wasn't natural nor normal. Scarecrow couldn't feel love, nor affection, he was under a spell by a witch, a magician, a hypnotist. After sitting here in the dark for so many hours, it was the only conclusion which made any logical sense to him- Jervis must have hypnotised him. Why? To use him? Abuse him? Break his heart?

…

The only thing he knew of love was pain and suffering. His father loved him, and he loved his father. But, he was terrified of him. He was terrified of how he helped him, through fear toxin, through soft yet judging comments. A shudder ran down his spine, and Jonathan slowly curled into himself to cover the eye holes in his mask, stiffening up through the silent sobs that were pulled from the boy. He wasn't afraid of his father, not anymore-- Why was he afraid of love? Why? What was wrong with him? Was he broken?...

No. He just knows the truth. Jervis is using him for some other purpose, manipulation and hypnotism. His heart broke at the thought, feeling the world crash down onto him. Scarecrow-- Jonathan--

**“Jonathan.”**

The voice cut through his image of reality with a harsh flinch forcing through him. His breathing choked with a glared glance around the dancing shadows. An eerie hum rushed over him, and an unconscious shudder rushed over him.

**“What have you done Jonathan? Why are you afraid?”**

**“He’s only trying to help.**

“Shut up!” Jonathan snapped out at *nothing*, standing up to kick at a conical flask with the quick sound of a shatter. He shuddered, shoulders shaking through heaved breaths through his mask.

“Whooa tiger, what gotcha panties in a twist?” Jerome hummed out to Jonathan, who, unknowest to him, has been there the entire time. By the looks of it, he found a spare blanket cover...somewhere and was working on making a hammock off of the ceiling. Jonathan glared through his mask with the yellow rage that flowed through him. Without another word, Jonathan started to shove his chemicals and gasses into a bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and making for the door.

“Jonathan, wait-” Jervis’ voice called out, making his chest twist. He shot him one firm look, before climbing out from the bunker without another thought. Stupid Jervis. Stupid ‘Friends’. Stupid love.

…

It was at that point that he realised he had not been keeping track of the news. He knew that, yes, Jeremiah’s initial plan had failed, but he did not realise that a new plan to seperate Gotham from the rest of the world had been successful. A good distraction from Jervis, he’s realised, and so he set up his equipment and headed into the dark corners of Dead Man’s Land to send fear into the hearts of his enemies-- Force them into submission, maybe even find himself some followers. DIstractions, experiments, science, taking control, keeping himself fed-...

Anything but Jervis right now.

Anything.


	6. Just another day....for Oswald and Jerome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theres a lot of jeromeswald here and jervis doesnt talk that was my entire mood writing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was completely grammar checked by @alpacasandravens !!!

Jonathan's fingers drummed against the wooden throne he was sat atop of, hay and sticks poking out from the top and making an uncomfortable seating space. His mask covered his face fully, his suit having been patched up multiple times within the coming months,the biggest change being his hood, which was now traded out for a patchy, pointed hat. 

He was a king.

King of the dark corners of Gotham City, Ruler of Fear and his fellow reapers of the night. They had a steady supply of food, water, beans, and a vast collection of chemicals. Places like the Green zone had medical supplies, Penguin’s zone had bullets, and Scarecrow? He had fear, fear toxin, explosives; anything he could get his hands on was useable. Everything was going as he planned: complete rule under a state of terror through his loyal worshippers, and most of all…

He was independent. A figurehead, a leader, a king. He didn't need Jervis, even with the thought of him arising from the shadows through the night, a good reason to avoid sleeping altogether. The itching longing that pulled at his dreading heart was completely ignored through experiments and science and running his dark corners of Gotham.

A couple of scrap-wearing followers dragged themselves in, pulling along a body bag on the ground. They were snickering amongst each other through mutters of numerous fear related jokes, but instantly stopped to stare up at Jonathan when he cleared his throat. The fear and  _ admiration _ made Jonathan smirk under his mask, slowly leaning forwards on one elbow.

"A corpse or alive, hm?" Scarecrow slowly clicked out with a cock of his head, the sharp curl of a needle on his finger carving a line into the wood. 

"Oh! Oh--alive, your Fearfulness!" One of them gasped out in a snicker, yanking the body bag forwards to shove it closer, quite roughly. The other spoke up.

"Caught 'im rummaging through the chemical supply, so we gave him a deathly shot of knockout gas."

"You're dismissed." Jonathan waved his hand, and the pair faltered for a minute, only for a look of death to force them to leave completely. Jonathan sighed out, stepping down from his throne through a dragging step. He grabbed the edge of the plastic body bag, pulling the body along towards the next room over. His laboratory. Jonathan's been waiting for a new test subject; the last one...hm, exploded. This was good, especially since it was alive. He squatted down, yanking the body up properly, and placing it down into the surgical table with a quiet move to unzip it hastily.

And he froze up.

Oh dear. Fuck. Fuck-- he recognized him. He recognized him as the world crashed down into him, and he faltered to ...stare. Jervis Tetch. His tophat was missing, and so was his stupid patchy facial hair--his hair was shorter, and a mess, and he looked….He…Fuck, he looked absolutely precious. The look was soft on him, it suited him, and it certainly brought Jervis' childlike nature to light.

The sickness tightened in his stomach, and he jolted back through a heaved breath, yanking his mask off in a rough tug to help himself breathe. Should he just put him back on the streets? Let him wake up? He couldn't be here. Jonathan has moved on from 'friends'--actually, where was Jerome in all of this?

And why did he feel more whole?

  
  


\-----

(Jerome POV)

_ Come on, Birdie, any minute now. _

Jerome was sat in Oswald's office in his section of Gotham, leaning back in a sort of throne, legs kicked up onto the table. He had a collection of those fancy-shmancy papers and contracts Oswald liked to occupy himself with, whistling an odd song that sounded like off-beat circus tunes. He's been waiting here for the better part of  _ two hours,  _ and frankly at this point, he wouldn't be surprised if the Birdie had managed to get himself killed since the last time he saw him, which was…a long time ago, but alas, Jerome  _ was _ supposed to be dead, oh golly! He couldn't hold it in any longer!

Obviously, leaving Jervis alone wasn't going to be a  _ bad _ idea; the man had finally gotten rid of that ridiculous facial hair! He's a new man who doesn't need to be babysat anymore. Probably. Ah, what the hell, if he dies it's his fault. Jonathan just might try 'n' kill him, but  _ that's _ always fun.

Oh, he's here. Jerome could already hear the cursing and whimpering of the familiar bird, and Jerome struggled to keep his laughter in to look serious, shuffling through the mind-blabbering documents. Who even needs contracts in No Man's Land? What the hell? The door clicked open, and he saw him. Still as short as he remembered, but he's certainly put on a few pounds, barely noticeable, but it was there. Jerome grinned behind the papers. And Oswald didn't seem to pay notice to him; he was limping quite badly from what he could see, and Oswald seemed to cringe every time he pressed down onto his leg---h, and all the bandages.

Oswalds blue eyes flickered up, glancing to Jerome, away, and tore straight back to him through a stiffened gasp, hobbling backwards to crash into some sort of penguin statue. "Y--You!" He whimpered out, quickly shaking his head while tears seemed to drop off from his face with a panicked shove to cover his features. Oh, Oswald was terrified. He looked ready to scream, before a laugh tore out of him.

Jerome perked up with a grin to the laughter, placing the papers down eagerly to swing his legs from the table and hop to his feet, and before he could even  _ speak,  _ Oswald interrupted him. He's supposed to be the talkative one! 

"Nope! Not happening, not real, go away," Oswald hissed with a waddle forwards, and Jerome could hear how labored his breathing was. Oh, dear…

"Birdie, dear, I'm very real! Third’s the charm! C'mon, we were so close, ain't you excited to see your old buddy friend pal?" Jerome giggled out to him with a soft rock in his spot, stepping out of the way to let Oswald take his seat. He obviously needed to breathe, Jerome knew that much.

Oswald slumped into his throne with an annoyed whimper, leaning to glare down at the ‘important’ documents. Small, wet splashes formed onto the paper, and he suddenly screamed out, shoving everything off the desk before standing up to kick harshly into the desk, the last remaining things on it falling away. Ouchy ouch, Oswald was in a bad mood. It wasn't even about him--who messed up his Birdie this bad?

“Oswald, what the fuck happened to you?” Jerome giggled out with a rock on his feet, watching as the bird grabbed for an expensive-looking bottle of red wine as well as a matching wine glass. He heaved through mutters under his breath to pour out the liquid that Jerome very easily compared to blood.

“Jim. Gordon.” The words hissed out with a thick amount of hatred and despair, hiccuping and whimpering. It was mostly anger, Jerome noted. The last time he saw him bummed out was when his...kid fake-died or something else like that. He didn't care to actually listen back then. He shrugged the thought off through a happy hum, leaning onto the desk.   
  
“Ahuh, ahuh, c’mon Birdie, spill the tea to your hallucination-bud” He snorted out, rolling his eyes to the thought. How silly. 

“Jim Gordon f--  _ fucking _ broke my knee! I just got that fixed, the bastard!” He snapped out, angrily gulping down some wine through the deep red staining his cheeks. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make him pay. All of Gotham will be after his head, I swear on my dog!”

“OOoo?? Ya got a dog?” Jerome suddenly interjected, fluttering his eyelashes to lean further over the desk, and in no way was stood upright. He held his own face to grin to him in that scarred sort of look. It suited him, the permanent grin, and the fact he was usually always smiling certainly helped.

“Y-Yeah, so what?” Oswald mumbled out with the anger falling to an odd sort of timidness, sipping the wine through deep breaths.

“Let me guess-- you named them after your tragically departed lover Jerome Valeska. Right?? Am I right??” This got an annoyed goran out of Oswald, which helped Jerome to relax and smile more calmly. Oswald was starting to feel better, and the sarcastic eye roll sure brought back some memories.

“No. He’s called Edward.”   
  
“Whaaat?? That twinkish nerd? Seriously? Groooaans, such competition,” Jerome huffed out, standing up in a small jump, faking a completely offended look of jealousy, and pouting. Well, he was half jealous, but he ignored that. He’d rejected feelings for laughter and jokes a long time ago. Oswald actually laughed, calmly and sarcastic, and the whimpers fell to short sniffles.

“If it makes you feel better, me and Ed havent spoken for a while, and--” He flinched, suddenly reforming his glare at the supposed ‘hallucination’. “Why am I talking to you? You're not real, you're very dead, and-” He cut himself off short with a caught look. Jerome smiled ‘handsomely, tapping his chin.

“And? Hm. Let's see. Was it our relationship? Are you still mad because I put you on that blimp? C’mon, you started it, grassing on me to Jim? Shaaaame.” Jerome clicked his tongue with a wink. “Well, it’s not like you knew all my plans. I bet no one expected my nerdy lil brother, huh?? Or is he my big brother...I was dead for a year, hrm…”

“We never had a relationship.” Oswald hissed with a sensitive whimper, shoving away his tears. Ouchy. Can't believe he just said that, that…

“You mean a lot to me, Oswald.” Jerome muttered out in an uncharacteristically serious tone. “Like, sure, you sat on my lap all the time and I got you to dance and all that, but we had something, y’know? I’ve never had that before, I was awfully protective of you-” Jerome paused with a darker look forming. “Ya gotta feel somethin’ for me, right? Why are you repressing it? Did Ed say something ‘bout me? God, the nerves that boy has…”

Everything Jerome said made Oswlad look like a deer---or more accurately a bird---caught in headlights, and he stared at Jerome for a long moment. “Jerome, you-”

Jerome, as impulsive as he was, interrupted him completely to yank at Oswalds tie, fluttering his eyes closed while their lips pressed together in a soft and gentle kiss. Jerome poured his heart into it, sighing sweetly in a slow touch across Oswalds wet cheeks. Oswald definitely didn't react for a moment, but he felt him slowly leaned into the kiss. The warmth swallowed both of them, and Jerome started jerking Oswalds tie off to fumble and pull it away from him, jumping himself up onto the desk to lean down in further, pressing Oswald back down into his throat with a small dip of his ton--

Oswald yanked back through a heavy flush, glaring at Jerome with a torn look, and Jerome caught on to how close they were right now. He knelt down onto his desk to lean into Oswald almost like he was prey, and Jerome had to hesitate, and clear his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that, Birdie, got a lil carried away. Anyway, I missed ya, and--”

“...You're not dead.” Oswald whispered out, covering his mouth through the sick flush, and Jerome understood that the hallucination gag wasn't exactly funny anymore. Well, in hindsight, it was, but-- “I can't believe it. You're alive. H-How--I…I was broken without you. I thought you were gone, you bastard! You made me think you were dead!” Oswald hissed through a heavy drip of tears.

“Ah well, see, I had a plan--”

“Fuck the plan! I thought you died and I thought it was all my fault! Do-- do you know how hard it was? You indoctrinate me to feel fucking Stockholm Syndrome, and straight up off yourself!”

“Well, when you put it like that, ah suppose t’was kinda bad wasn't it…but ‘Miah wouldn't have been as fun if he thought I was alllive!” Jerome whined out with a slow shuffle back to get off from his desk, ignoring an excitement rushing through him.

“Just--” Oswald hissed in a heave. “Get out. I don't want to see you again. I won't mention this to anyone, just leave me alone. I’m going through a lot right now.” Oswald whimpered to him, shaking in his spot to cover his face up, and Jerome hesitated on the thought. Birdie needed some space, understandable, ah…He couldn't leave him like this…

Jerome shifted himself, moving to gently pull Oswald into a hug, shushing him in a gentle stroke of his hair, which felt as soft as feathers. Oswald didn't protest, but he didn't exactly hug him back. Jerome gave a soft, gentle squeeze, and pecked his cheek to hop back.

“Alrighty! Nice seeing you, buddy! Love ya, good luck with everything-” Jerome giggled out, suddenly skipping himself out of the room. All things considered, it went well.


	7. The chapter where one of them actually makes a move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was grammar checked by @alpacasandravens !!!

[Jonathan POV]

A short gagging caught his thoughts off guard, and he certainly didn't have time to think about what to do, to wake him up or put him outside or otherwise, because he was already awake. Choking on excess gas, Jervis was already fumbling to sit up and shove his face in his hands. "Oh, what a hassle…which castle am I in?" Jonathan heard Jervis mutter out, and a tense look formed.

"..." Jonathan sucked in a breath. " _ Mr. Tetch _ , it seems you've caught yourself in quite the mess. What am I to do with you, hm? Experiment on you?" Jonathan clicked his tongue with a jagged cock of his head to the side, stepping up beside him to drag his fingers onto the surgical table, and he just noticed the absolute puppy-like smile of excitement, sparkling with a childish delight. "You look dreadful. Where is Mr. Valeska? I expected him to  _ at least _ babysit you…"

"I missed you! God, I could just kiss you!" Jervis suddenly squeaked out to fumble out of the plastic wrap, wobbling to stand up besides him with an excited grin, and Jonathan felt his cheeks hotten up with a certain amount of confusion. What was. What was that? Was Jervis serious? About… kissing him? He certainly hoped not, but his thoughts crossed into the idea with a fond, dreamy light to it. He wonders if Jervis' kisses would be soft now that he has no facial hair…

...Who is he kidding. He's never even kissed anyone before. He's not interested, and Jervis is the last person he would want to kiss.

"Oh God." Jervis suddenly muttered out in an air of seriousness, brows furrowed to stare up at The Scarecrow through conflicted eyes, slowly crossing his arms. "Jonathan… you… you…" he choked, suddenly throwing his arms up in an offended scoff. "When did you get so tall! I was taller than you the last time I saw you, oh my God, it hasn't been that long!"

Jonathan tried to suppress it, his expression lightening up from the cold, calculating look to muffled a strained laugh, hunching over naturally in deep breaths. That was really one of the first things Jervis said to him? Honestly, he wasn't completely aware he had grown, and he was wearing boots with a good couple of inches, but he could see Jervis' point. Especially without his tophat, Jervis looked quite small, and fairly thin, which Jonathan assumed was down to not eating much. He can't say anything; it's been a few days since he's eaten. 

"Don't laugh! You'll feel my wrath!” Jervis gasped through a nerdy pout, tears actually threatening Jervis' eyes. Oh my God, he was so sensitive. If it wasn't Jervis, he'd call it quite...cute. Never mind, Jonathan would never call anything cute. 

"Oh, don't cry, Mr. Tetch. We knew this was your inevitable fate." Jonathan grinned to him with a sadistic glint behind it, before slowly retracting himself to step towards the wall, occupying himself with some odd science bits and chemicals. He could hear Jervis' grumbling, and quite easily remember his spoilt face. Jonathan, right now, felt quite content. Pleased, maybe even entertained. "I suppose you can stay a few nights--my reapers may try to scare you, though. I might test a few things on you, here and there to catch the deadly result…"

"....Really?" Jervis mumbled out to stand in his spot, awkwardly shuffling to rub his hands together. "I wouldn't wish to intrude--I was looking for food, you see, and accidentally found the key to your humble... kingdom." Jervis paused, and an excited perk formed. "I fell into the Rabbit hole, down the darkness where the Scarecrow rules. Jerome had gone somewhere, so I was getting his food, and..." Jervis smiled widely. 

Jonathan's gaze averted with a tense feeling in his midsection. He wasn't dependant. He wasn't going to be dependant. All he's doing is giving aid to an old work partner. He owes him that much, after all…

_ It was a dark night in the asylum. Arkham Asylum, specifically. It was another one of those nights, where the shadows darted and haunted him, and the boogieman, of course. The Scarecrow. The very thing he claims to be, claims to take heritage to-and it had his father's voice. He was used to this treatment, the low wailing or shouting or whimpering, and the worst it made him do was rock back and forth on his bed without a thought to be able to rest. He wasn't on his bed now, though. _

_ A flaw Arkham had, especially for being an asylum for the criminally insane and worst criminals to plague Gotham's streets, was how easy it was to get things with the right connections. Even without them, it was disastrously easy. So what he had with him was  _ ** _rope_ ** _ , fastened to the light fixture after a few timely yanks to test if it would fall through. And the most important part: it took the shape of a noose. _

_ Jonathan Crane was no more. Tonight, he was going to end his meaningless existence, and with it, truly become the Scarecrow. Jonathan Crane was the Scarecrow's flaw. Jonathan Crane was weak. Jonathan Crane was unneeded, and to truly become his demon, he had to lose himself. _

_ Kill Jonathan Crane.  _ ** _Kill himself._ **

_ He was preparing himself for the inevitable when the door clicked unlocked without any warning, and a man he didn't recognize stepped inside. His hair was a mess, brown and curly, and an odd paper hat sat on his head, made of newspaper. Jonathan clenched his jaw with a burning rage forming. _

_ "Hello, you must be Mr. Crane! My name is Jervis Tetch, a common friend of ours, Mr. Valeska, sent me to drop off some chemicals and--Oh my God, my dear boy, are you crying?" _

_ It didn't click to Jervis that night, but he saved his life. _

"Jonathan? Jonathan, are you alright, you're spacing out and--" Jervis' nervous voice broke through the memory, and Jonathan blinked a few times to realise that his cheeks were wet in tears, even if he didn't feel like he'd been crying. Jonathan hesitated, slowly placing down the test tube he still held to shove his hand through his messy brown locks.

"Oh you poor dear…" Jervis muttered with concern etched into his tone, and Jervis moved to gently place a hand on his arm, an action which almost made Jonathan shove him away in reflex, but instead he just flinched. And slowly, getting past his nerves, he leaned in to wrap his arms around Jervis' chest, slumping in low enough to press his face into his shoulder.

"I missed you," Jonathan admitted, sighing in a sort of defeat. He felt his heart relax and thump to the man, to Jervis, and although he didn't accept it, he couldn't help it. Maybe it'll be different this time.

"I missed you too, this is true," Jervis mumbled out softly through a tender adoration for the now taller man before him, arms gently squeezing around Jonathan. "But it is you who my heart sings for. I love you, Jonath--"

The words made Jonathan jolt back from the hug in a startled choke, his mud matted cheeks staining in a red to pause, gripping tightly still onto Jervis' suit, and before he could control himself, he dipped down to press his lips softly into Jervis'.

It was sloppy, but the same could be said about Jervis' side. And it felt better than the odd fantasy that slipped into his mind. His eyes quietly slipped closed. He melted into the kiss, his entire body feeling something  _ just as strong _ as fear. This was the polar opposite, but all the same. Love. He felt love. He was terrified of love, and yet…

He's the reincarnation of fear. If he can't do this, what can he do? The kiss lasted for a good minute, and Jonathan completely forgot how he needed to breathe through the first experience, the  _ moment _ with Jervis, and...The Hatter himself was shocked into silence, staring up to Jonathan with slightly parted lips, and a loving look of amazement..

"Don't look at me like that. You can stay in my room. I don't sleep," Jonathan averted his gaze with a move to hold his own...thin tummy to the… the… 

Holy shit. He just kissed Jervis Tetch.


End file.
